


whatever hurts you through the night

by StHarold



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 80's AU, Abusive Parents, Art, Hurt/Comfort, In this one you'll have to listen to an 80's songs playlist, Light Angst, M/M, Mention of guns, On the Run, Well you don't necessarily have to but that would be nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 17:31:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13392771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StHarold/pseuds/StHarold
Summary: Take my hand, we could leave tonightWhatever hurts you through the night.Or an 80's AU where the night is too hot and Harry forgot how to dream,until a certain blue-eyed someone shows up.





	whatever hurts you through the night

**Author's Note:**

> This work is my baby and it means a lot to me.  
> It was inspired by so many things, but the main idea came to me while listening to "Whatever Hurts You Through The Night" by Glasvegas. I'm going to leave a link to an Apple Music playlist I made (and if you don't have it, you can type the names of the songs wherever you choose to listen to your music to!). The songs, I feel, could make this story more complete and help you feel the atmosphere I was trying to create.  
> I hope someone loves this as much as I do xx

The playlist: [click here](https://itunes.apple.com/playlist/whatever-hurts-you-through-the-night/pl.u-leMPcMkp0VP?l=en)

He all but slammed the door behind him.

His lips were quivering with how much he wanted to cry. Instead, he frantically searched for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, safely hidden so that his parents couldn’t find it. He slightly opened the window, breathing in the smoke almost greedily.

Harry didn’t even bother locking the door. If his mom or dad wanted to storm into the room (which happened every so often) to put out their anger on him, it would be over for Harry.  His dad had never been an example of a healthy lifestyle, but when he first caught the boy smoking at the age of 15, he beat Harry black and blue.

Harry noticed that his hands were shaking. He never hated someone as much as he hated them. All he ever wanted is for them to give him any love at all. Up until his first year in school, he used to think that the scandals he fell asleep to were a common thing for parents in general. He didn’t know better.

He remembered his sister Gemma. Gemma was the only angel he had had in his life. With tears in her own eyes and bruised lips, she would whisper him to sleep.

“Imagine a big field, all covered in flowers. Think about how much fun we’ll have once we get there!”.

Harry never made it to the field. He hoped that maybe Gemma did.

He wiped away a lonely tear and took a deep drag. He couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it would be to not feel this pain someday.

The dry Californian air made his eyes water every time he blinked. The night sky looked orange, but Harry could never tell why. He secretly hoped it meant that the end of the world was near.

He didn’t hold a grudge against Gemma. She did the best thing she could, she ran away. It did take Harry years to understand why she hadn’t taken him with her. A 14-year-old girl on the run with her little brother. It would get them nowhere.

Harry kept a small photo of her in a heart-shaped necklace she had left on her nightstand the day she had left. The realization had hit him in solitude; it had nailed him to the spot. He found himself crying in Gemma’s bed that night, head buried in her pillows. They still smelled like her perfume.

Harry lit another one. He looked down. The lights that were supposed to light the way had broken years ago and no one bothered to make the right call. Harry didn’t care much either. He hated this city and giving back to the local society was the last thing on his mind.

He kept staring into the darkness when he saw someone walking past his house. It was 2 AM and usually, no one except for junkies and drunks dared to step out at the time that late. However, this person looked nothing like a junkie. Harry couldn’t see much but he still could tell by the way the guy was walking. It seems as if he was upset with something, punching small pebbles with his sneakers and gradually slowing down his pace.

The guy suddenly turned his head and looked directly at Harry. Only then did Harry realize that his window was probably the only source of light in the pitch-black darkness of the street.

Now Harry could see the grumpy expression on the face of the stranger. He was about to tell him to get the fuck away and stop staring, but out of the blue the guy broke into a smile and Harry’s heart dropped. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time someone smiled at him like that - unreasonably open and unnecessarily gentle.

Before he knew it, the stranger nodded at him as if saying, “take care” and vanished into the night.

The weight of the world might not have been completely off his shoulders, but it definitely shifted.

 

 

Harry’s friends never knew when to stop. They didn’t like the idea of holding back. So, while Harry thought that them having visited 2 shitty bars was enough for the night, they decided they wanted to go to “The Golden Horseshoe”. At least, Harry noted, it wasn’t that far and the barman there served beer dirt cheap.

Their group could never make a single step without shouting the lyrics to some cult songs, which Niall never knew the words of. That day they were singing “Another Brick In The Wall”, and Harry almost wanted to punch Niall for not knowing the words.

Harry’s dad fucked off somewhere that night. He never saw fit to tell his mother where he went, but for Harry, it was a blessing. It meant he could have a drink with his friends without counting how much alcohol would make him lose control.

 

They burst in the bar singing the last chorus. The barman gave them a smirk and went on with mixing the spirits.

It was almost too hot to even drink. Harry slowly sipped his first beer while his friends were on their 3rd. He watched Niall trying to stuff as many free fries in his mouth as he could. The others were laughing and cheering him on while the best thing Harry could do was smile lazily. He didn’t feel like having that much fun.

It was no surprise that after three beers in a row they all rushed to the restroom, leaving Harry to finish his.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts that, when someone took a seat across the table, it took a moment for him to realize that the person sitting in front of him wasn’t a part of their group. He was even more surprised to realize that it was the same guy he had seen walking past his house the night before.

\- Hey, - he said with a completely straight face.

\- Um, hi, - Harry responded, watching every move of the mysterious guy, mesmerized by the stone-like expression of his face.

Harry noticed a few little things about this guy that he instantly liked. His cheekbones, his eyes, his tiny yet fit frame - every part of him screamed endearing.

When Harry caught himself thinking about it, he shook his head trying to clear away the fogginess that filled his head, but it was too late. He felt his cheeks burning and desperately wanted to get up and leave. But the person in front of him had him outright hypnotized.

The guy stood up and extended a hand. Harry’s first guess was that he wanted to shake hands and was about to do the same when the blue-eyes vision of a boy murmured:

\- Come with me.

 

 

They were driving into the night in the beige Impala that hopefully belonged to the guy.

Harry didn’t know where they were going to, nor did he care. All he wanted was to be far away.

\- What’s your name? – he asked, trying to yell over the loud music.

The guy stretched his lips in a tiny smile and said:

\- Louis.

\- I’m Harry.

\- I know.

\- How come you know?

Another smile, this time a mysterious one. Then he shrugged.

After 20 minutes on the road, Louis shut down the engine.

\- Want to show you something.

He jumped out of the car and Harry followed suit, struggling to keep up with Louis on his wobbly legs.

They were now standing in front of what had once been a local museum of fine arts. Harry only knew it because his friend’s mom used to work there when she was 15. She used to tell a lot of funny stories about her work there, but not so much about the place itself. Harry had no idea why Louis would want to bring him here, but it kind of sparked his interest.

\- Charles Bulfinch, 18th  century. This place used to be a museum, you know?

\- Yes, I’ve heard about it.

Harry looked at Louis. The latter was looking at the building as one would be looking at their loved one. There was so much admiration in his gaze; Harry felt like he was interrupting something.

\- Look at the simplicity, the balance. Such a fine taste, - Louis exhaled, finally taking his eyes off the building and looking at Harry.

Harry wasn’t very keen on architecture, to be honest, but seeing how much this excites Louis, he was now trying to take a closer look. The building was indeed nice, with columns and domes, and big windows.

\- Kinda sad that it’s abandoned, - Harry whispered. He didn’t really have to whisper, but the intimacy of the moment made him feel inclined to.

Louis nodded and started walking up the stairs. When he got to the door, he opened it freely and invited Harry in.

When Harry took in the space inside, he gasped audibly.

\- The unique thing about this place is that they never bothered to move out the exposition.

There were so many pieces of art that Harry didn’t know where to look. All kinds of sculptures and paintings, covered in dust and piled up, were now resting here, forgotten. Louis called for him, and Harry found him standing in front of a huge painting.

\- This is my favorite one. Max Oppenheimer painted it and it’s called[ “The Bleeding Man”](https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kysiyvKsHIc/VEj1PZBo6sI/AAAAAAAAR20/LHEqspoP5j8/s1600/Oppenheimer%2BDer%2BBlutende.jpg). What do you think?

Harry took a look at the painting. It was an image of a naked man bleeding. His chest and fingers were a bloody mess and the atmosphere around him felt somewhat sacred. There seemed to be a powerful emotional connection between the drama of the bloodied fingers as they knit, pulled away from each other or dabbled in the wound that they were tamping so gingerly, and the expression on the face, those full, parted lips, the closed eyes.

\- It is so ravishingly ambiguous, - was the only words he could manage.

Louis gave him a rather strange look; his lips parted for a moment, as those of a man that was painted. His eyes were glistening with some difficult emotion Harry could not quite decipher.

\- I think I know what you mean, - he nodded slowly.

Harry felt vexed. There was so much talent, work, and artistry inside this abandoned museum. It was meant for things greater than just rot there, forsaken. Everything was beautiful but no one saw it. No one even had a chance.

\- First time I saw you, I remembered about this place, - Louis murmured, looking Harry in the eyes.

Harry felt his eyes fill with tears. These words were a compliment.

\- Just as beautiful and sad, - Louis whispered.

He made a few steps, which made the distance between them disappear. The poor lightning from the road was enough to make Louis’ eyes sparkle, truly making justice to the gorgeous blue color.

Harry couldn’t breathe. How was he supposed to believe Louis wasn’t just another painting?

Louis covered Harry’s lips with his like it was the most natural thing. His lips were unimaginably soft and tasted like strong cigarettes.

He felt so familiar. Like they were meant to be that way all along. Like Harry had been waiting for this person all his life.

Louis couldn’t just stop kissing him. He had to plant a tiny kiss on the corner of Harry’s mouth, and that made Harry’s heart feel so strong about that particular moment in time.

Things like that just didn’t happen to someone like Harry.

 

 

The neon sign said that there were rooms available. Louis was searching for his wallet in a rush while Harry looked around. There was one thing on his mind, it owned his whole existence, and he didn’t give a single damn about anything else.

They broke into the room tangled up in one another, breathing heavily and whispering each other’s names on repeat. It was dark and smelled of old lady’s perfume, but none of this mattered when they fell onto the bed. Louis was sitting on top of Harry, kissing him senseless. His hands were everywhere at once. Louis was messing with Harry’s curls, pulling them slowly. Then he was caressing Harry’s lips with his fingertips, which felt more intimate than any sex Harry had ever had. Louis’ bedroom eyes were making Harry die inside slowly.

Louis sucked a few bruises into the pale skin of Harry’s neck, making him moan and squirm under the hotness of the touch. He had never wanted anything half as much as he wanted Louis there and then.

When Louis moved down to his chest, Harry couldn’t help letting out a whimper.

\- Sorry, is this okay? – Louis asked, looking up with a worried look on his face.

\- Yeah, sorry, it’s just. Feels too good to be true, - Harry managed, closing his eyes shut.

His body was itching as if overshadowing the sensation, the explosion of everything in him, physically and emotionally.

When he opened his eyes again, suddenly feeling strangely complete, he saw the stars in Louis’ eyes. The constellations unbeknownst to humanity. Too beautiful to be discovered and then inevitably ruined.

 

When Harry woke up, it was because Louis lit a cigarette.

\- Sorry, did I wake you up, sunshine? – he whispered, trying to scatter the smoke with his hand and putting his cigarette out. He lay down facing Harry.

\- You take my breath away, do you know that? – he blurted out suddenly, running his hand through Harry’s hair.

\- It’s mutual, do you know that? – Harry whispered back.

Louis’ lips stretched out in the warmest smile Harry had ever seen, and he kissed Harry’s forehead. All these little things made Harry surprised and left him wanting for more. It was actually scary how addicted he was getting to the person he had only known for one day.

\- Let’s run away from here.

 

Harry didn’t have any second thoughts about his decision. He asked Louis to drop by his house so he could pick up some of few things that he had.

He knew nothing about the boy he wanted to run away with. But he did realize something when he was lying in that bed and the neon lightning was coloring the room blue. No eyes had ever looked at him with so much affection in them; no hands had ever touched him so gently; no mouth had met his own with so much passion and tenderness at the same time.

 

 

\- Where the hell have you been? – was the first thing he heard once he crossed the threshold.

There was his mother, looking absolutely infuriated with her hands on her hips and her lips tightly pursed.

\- At Nick’s, why?

\- Your father has been looking for you, you idiot! You’re in so much trouble, he’s gonna… hey, where you going?

\- I’m just gonna take a shower and then I’ll be right back to talk to him, okay?

His heart was racing a mile a minute and his mouth went dry. He jumped over a few steps and all but ran upstairs. Harry stormed into his room and started throwing all the clothes he could see, his ID, some savings and the necklace. This was all he needed.   

He took the final look at his room, slowly turned on his heels, exhaled and turned the doorknob.

The stair was clear, so he ran. Miraculously, he didn’t fall head over hills while running downstairs, and there was no one there too.

But as Harry ran out of the house, he heard a loud “Hey you!” in his father’s harsh and loud voice. His whole body was shaking when he heard “Son of the bitch!” behind him. In all seriousness, Harry felt like his whole world might crumble then and there.

He never wanted to see his father’s face again.

When he got into the car, all he managed to say to Louis was “Gun it”, but the latter immediately understood it.

They were speeding away in the car when Harry heard a gunshot that sent shivers down his spine. In that moment, he prayed that the gunshot was meant for his father’s head.

Harry didn’t even know he was crying until Louis took one hand off the wheel and wiped the tears away from his cheek. Harry shook his head.

\- I don’t know what his damage is, - he blurted out, - Honestly, I… wish mom could kick him to the curb.

Louis gave him a weak smile, obviously trying to cheer him up.

\- Get them tears out, baby. It’s okay to cry sometimes.

Having said that, he took Harry’s hand in his and kissed his knuckles.

The radio was playing “Just What I Needed”, the tears dried down eventually, and the bright Californian sun was cascading down Louis’ face.

It might be the best day of his life, Harry thought. He cranked the dial all the way to the right. Louis smiled at him, and things finally felt right.

His life finally made sense.

**Author's Note:**

> I might write a sequel someday.


End file.
